


Coming To Terms

by DoctorFitzy (KittooningMalijah)



Series: Bruises Verse [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fitz is bi, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 09:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/DoctorFitzy
Summary: Leopold Fitz has a list, and the name of it has changed over the years - his If I Swung That Way list, his If I Had To Pick A Dude list. Eventually, he might just learn to accept that there’s more to the list than just ifs and maybes.OR, the one where Fitz realizes he would bang Micheal Weatherly.





	

          During exam weeks, almost the entire SHIELD Academy was quiet. Everyone was either studying or working on a major project or holed up in their dorm rooms sleeping so that they would be well rested for their tests. For Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons, however, exam week meant they sat on one of their beds and got to watch all of the shows they'd fallen behind on. This particular night happened to include a few episodes of _NCIS_ , and the evening was quiet save for the sound of crunching popcorn and pretzels. At least, it _was_  quiet until a single comment was made.

          "Agent Dinozzo is rather handsome, isn't he?"

          Fitz tilted his head to the side at her words, instinctively reacting by analyzing every detail he could perceive. The character he inspected was good looking, sure, but Anthony Dinozzo was attractive in that cliche way - square jaw, perfect hair, broad shoulders, symmetrical eyes but with a crooked smile. Those were the kinds of things that everybody liked, and the Scot was well aware that he rarely fit into the same categories as _everybody_.

          He made a mistake that night. The mistake wasn't that he'd indulged her, that he'd actually taken a look at the man she'd made a comment about; it was that he'd made a comment of his own in return without thinking twice about how it may sound. "I don't know. He wouldn't make my list."

          Silence hung between them for a long moment, and Fitz kept his eyes trained on the screen so that he wouldn't have to focus too much attention on the consequences of his slip up. Having a list like he did wasn't all that abnormal, he was sure, but this was _Jemma Simmons._ She was his best and only friend, but she always seemed so _buttoned up_. From what he'd seen of her she was a teachers' pet, through and through. He'd seen her with boyfriends, of course, but they never seemed like serious relationships - except for maybe Milton, but he liked to block those weeks out of his conscious memory. Jemma was too much of a good girl to understand the appeal of a list like his, and explaining it would take too much time. At least, that was the reason he used to convince himself not to say anything else on the topic unless he was prompted to do so. It wasn't something she would be all that interested in, even if he was open to talking about it.

          The list was his secret, his _thing_ that he went to when an actor or another student caused him to spend too much time in his head. He couldn't ever actually pursue whatever silly little notions his mind came up with, of course - no matter how many times the idea crossed his mind, he didn't _want_  to go out and talk up other men, let alone go so far as to start any kind of non-platonic relationship with them, and things like kisses were the _last_  thing on his mind. Except that they were on his mind a lot, and there was always someone that made him consider what he would do if it was a possibility.

          The bed shifted when she did, taking up space that much closer to him before speaking up. "What kind of list would that be? Do you have a list of attractive fictional characters that you've been keeping from me? _Leo Fitz,_ that's the kind of thing you share with your best friend."

          Her logic was sound, he'd admit that, but her logic was based on a different scenario. The truth was a bit different than her assumption, and while there was nothing necessarily wrong with that in itself, he didn't want his best friend to go on believing a lie about him. No matter how private he preferred to keep his list, the truth was a better alternative than having to pretend she was right for the indefinite future. "Actually, there's more than just fictional characters on my list. George Walker, from chem lab? He's on it." He fell quiet immediately after the confession, still keeping his eyes focused away from her. "And a few of the guys in my aeronautical physics unit."

          If he was going to tell the truth, adding a bit more information wouldn't kill him. At least, he hoped it wouldn't.

          "What kind of list is it, then?"

          The question was inevitable, he knew it would come with her confusion and he thought he was prepared to answer it. He was wrong. There was almost no possible way to explain the purpose of his list without feeling like he'd said too much, or said something wrong. The list itself existed, and that was fine, and he never shared it, but he knew how it might sound if he wasn't very careful with his words. Taking a deep breath, Fitz shrugged his shoulders and gave the most nonchalant answer he could muster up, still not daring to look in her direction. "It's a list of guys I would consider being with if I ever had any urge to, well, _swing their way._ "

          He'd assumed that answer would explain most of it, but based on the expression he saw when he risked a short glance in her direction. it hadn't done that at all. It didn't seem like such a big deal to him - he had a list of people he would consider if he was given the opportunity, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary about that. Unless, maybe, he considered the fact that every single person on the list was _male_ , and he wouldn't ever have any inclination to follow through with what the existence of the list implied he wanted. Even then, there wasn't any  _harm_  in it wasn't like any of them _knew_  they were on the list, and even if they did, most of them were fictional characters, anyway, or actors who must know they're on one list or another somewhere. All he was doing was putting aside a few names and classifying them based on their properties - just like he did almost any normal day in chem lab. 

          So he had no idea why his friend looked borderline offended at the information.

          "Fitz, if there's anything you ever want to talk about, you know I'll listen, right?"

          Then, it was his turn to be confused, frowning at her words for a few moments before the meaning fell into place. _Oh_. She'd made another assumption. It was another reasonable one, at least, and he couldn't be all that offended himself when the information he'd given her did kind of point in that direction, but he still needed to clarify, for both of their sakes.

          "I'm not gay." The words came out quickly, almost too quickly, and the Scot paused for a few moments to try to come up with the best way to take them back. "I just happen to, _occasionally_ , consider my options for a situation where that happens to be different. But I'm straight. I'm not really interested in pursuing anything with any of them, I just... there's too many _what ifs_  in my head sometimes, and the list helps."

          He stared at the television without really seeing the screen, only doing so in order to avoid meeting her gaze. He could _feel_  the concern that must be embodied in the look in her eyes, and the last thing he wanted was to encourage that expression. It wasn't like he couldn't tell that his head was always doing something that would make things difficult for him in the long run, but that didn't mean _she_  had to worry about him, too. There was already enough stress in his life without the weight of her own stress on his shoulders, too.

          "So, you never consider maybe... _actually_  pursuing something with any of them? Just to see if it's possible? If you're thinking about it, Fitz, there's no harm in a little experiment. We could go down to the Boiler Room one night this week if you'd like. Maybe-"

          "No." His answer was instinctive, and Fitz could feel himself starting to close off. It was _his_  list, _his_ private classification system, and _his_ annoying thoughts that wouldn't let him sleep at night, not hers. It was all his own business, and he didn't need anyone's help to figure it out, not even hers. "I thought we were just going to watch _NCIS_ all night? I liked that plan, and I think we should go back to it, or we'll never be caught up." The words made the room go quiet again, and he took a deep breath before finally reaching for another handful of popcorn.

* * *

 

          _Another one for the list._

That thought crossed his mind more and more when they bounced between labs, and even when they settled into a lab of their own, he never mentioned the additions to Jemma. He'd learned his lesson, that night in her room, and he was determined to keep it to himself for good, this time. For the most part, his efforts were successful, at least until he got caught on their lunch break, staring out the window to the hallway where a few of the other scientists in the building were having a conversation. It would have been fine if he'd actually been keeping up with _eating_  like they were in the break room for, but his staring had distracted him from his sandwich, and his friend was more observant than he gave her credit for.

          "Isn't that George Walker? He's on your list, isn't he?"

          After two years, she somehow still knew one of the names he'd mentioned offhand during their first and only conversation about the topic, and the Scotsman could actually feel the blood drain from his face. Yes, that was one of the other students from their chemistry lab, and it was one who happened to have a position on his list, but that didn't mean George was _still_  on his list, after all that time. Except that he was, and the scruff that hadn't been shaved from his jaw and chin that morning had actually moved him up a few spots. He wasn't about to say as much out loud, not when he knew it would only come back to bite him, so he stayed quiet and made himself focus on his food again.

          It wasn't just the fact that he was still on the list that Fitz wanted to keep quiet, either. Over the years, the men on his list had become more than just _what ifs,_ and he spent his nights thinking about the kinds of things that would never happen. George, for instance, did not swing the way that Fitz sometimes wished he did and had happily been in a relationship with an art student from the campus across town for over a year. Which definitely wasn't information he'd gathered because he wondered if he had a chance, it had just come up when they were both in the break room one afternoon, and it hadn't even crossed his mind, all those nights with the _maybes_  and _what ifs_ , that the reason he couldn't ever pursue such a relationship with the scientist he only ever saw once or twice a week was a relationship that he didn't want to get in the middle of. It would never be his place to ruin something good only to see if there was something there he wanted.

          "Yeah, that's George. It's still kind of weird seeing him without those glasses he used to wear."

          There. That was a safe enough comment to make. No one else had to be even remotely concerned about the new ache in his chest that returned whenever he happened to be within viewing distance of someone he could never even hope to have.

* * *

 

          Fitz was good at hiding things like feelings. He had to be, to keep Jemma from constantly asking questions about his state of mind. Besides, he had feelings for more than just one person locked away in his chest, he'd just gotten better at keeping his gazing to a minimum. At least, when he was alone, he could try to sort things like his feelings out in a way that maybe made a bit of sense. He could figure out why the men on his list were on his mind just as much as the women around the lab were. In the years they'd been at the facility, he'd had exactly four dates, and none of them had gone well enough to consider a second one.

          Penelope Davis was the date he'd accepted to accompany to George Walker's wedding. She was smart enough to carry conversations about work, but the way they both stumbled around conversations involving anything outside of equations and reactions was proof enough that they weren't a good fit as anything besides colleagues. That was just fine, with him, at least. He hadn't been looking for a relationship at the time anyway, and having another friend around the lab every once in a while wouldn't hurt matters at all. It didn't kill him, not getting a second date with her.

          Hannah Parsons was a different matter. He'd asked her out in hopes of finding someone to go with him on double dates with Jemma and her boyfriend at the time - Jim or Tim or something like that, he couldn't remember by the time he ever had to retell the story - but things were even messier than they were with Penelope. He _liked_  Hannah, maybe a little more than he should have. She was beautiful and worked just down the hall with some of the other engineers in the building, and she actually seemed interested in talking to him about things like television and books and things that no one but a girlfriend really needed to care about. But after the first dinner they'd gone out to, before double dates could even be arranged, he'd mentioned his friendship with Jemma one too many times, and he was left with nothing but another story of failure.

          After that, he stopped trying to impress the women in the labs and ventured out to the world of people who didn't live their entire lives based on clearance levels and superior officers. The night he went out to a bar with a few people from the physics department was the night he met Natalie Hopkins, and he thought that she would be different. He never had to worry about letting anything slip because he didn't have to talk about work, and they'd both agreed on what movie to see within minutes of him picking her up at her apartment, and she had no problems with him having a roommate who happened to be a woman. Things were _great_ until he'd gotten too confident, mentioned that he worked for a faction of the government. Then, he'd gotten a lecture about not protecting the little people and working for _The Man,_ and the remainder of her martini splashed in his face. He'd assumed that meant dinner was over.

          The difference between those three dates and number four was the fact that he didn't tell Jemma a single detail - because number four wasn't a failed date, it wasn't a mess because of some slip up he made or because they didn't have anything in common, it wasn't completely derailed before the relationship could even begin. Matthew Scott had a doctorate in biological engineering and another two year degree in psychology that he'd gotten while looking for a job in the field he actually wanted to work in. His minor had been in anthropology, but only because primatology wasn't an option at the university he'd attended, and he talked more about monkeys at dinner than Fitz himself had. They'd gotten along just fine all night, had had an hour long conversation about one single moment in the movie they'd seen that ended with them laughing on Matt's couch, the beers they'd gotten out almost entirely untouched.

          It had been one of the best nights of his life, and it had led to the first time he'd actually felt _comfortable_  with the idea of asking someone out for a second date. The thing about his luck was that it was very, _very_ bad, and even though he'd failed his field assessment test, he'd applied for the same field team Jemma had, and when they were both accepted for the transfer, he never got the chance to pursue the one person on his list that he might actually have a chance with.

* * *

 

          It took nearly a month for the team to really be put together and gathered in one location, and Fitz made a point of forgetting the potential of his almost-relationship with Matthew and focusing on working. They got to be based at the Hub for a week, and he spent all of that time finally perfecting the dispersal mechanism for their latest project - it kept him busy, and out of his own head, and just like that, he could acknowledge that he wished he had more time to explore the possibilities, but he'd never get the chance. Up until the moment they stepped onto the Bus, he let himself mourn with _maybes_ and _ifs_  and _could have beens,_ and then he shut that thought process down. In the field, connections like that wouldn't make his job easier, or make the work day go faster. They would only slow him down and put the rest of the team in danger if he wasn't entirely focused on what he was supposed to be doing.

          For the most part, he thought he would be okay at staying on task, at not getting distracted by his own thoughts, at keeping himself focused on protecting people and keeping the world safe from the weird. And it wasn't that he failed, he just got sidetracked once or twice, and there was a part of him that hated his lack of self-control when it came to his feelings and the other people on his team. In all the years he'd had his list, he'd only caved in and tried to pursue something once, and that hadn't exactly worked out so he'd tried to stay resigned to the fact that he wouldn't even get the chance to try to understand the urges that had only grown when he did.

          His single date with Matt had proven that he'd been wrong for years, that his list wasn't just people he would be with on the off chance that his sexuality allowed it; it was a list of people he _wanted_ to try with, wanted to give an effort for, and within fifteen minutes on the Bus, it had grown. After meeting Grant Ward, there was one more name he was too afraid to do anything with besides add to the list and hope he never had to have a conversation about it.

* * *

 

          If it were up to him, Fitz would be able to come to a conclusion about who he would like to pursue a romantic relationship with, and that would be that. Things would be so much easier without the complications that came from being attracted to not just one or two of the people on his field team, but _three_ of them.

          With Skye, he knew that whatever chances he had were very slim, especially after one particular mission where she'd chosen to side with her boyfriend over the team. He hadn't been mad, couldn't be - they all had someone on the outside they would value more than themselves, and for her, that had happened to be Miles. It was a logical thing to do, protecting someone who didn't know just how bad things might get, and if anything, that only made her _more_ attractive. 

          He just didn't realize what being in that boat would feel like until there were alien viruses to consider, lives being lost, his own best friend nearly among them. There had been no fear on his mind when he had scrambled for the parachute, had prepared to jump out into the empty air after her, had come to peace with the idea that he might fail but he wouldn't have to live with that for very long. As long as he at least _tried_ , he couldn't have any regrets about the choices he made that day. It didn't really occur to him as to _why_ until they were sat in his bunk, hours later, until he felt her lips on his cheek, until that odd feeling of _peace_ washed over him that he hadn't felt since that night before they'd been transferred, settled on the couch with no alcohol in his system.

          His list only mattered when it came to the mission after that one, when it was just two of them protecting each other in the middle of nowhere, cold and, in his case, hungry. They nearly lost their lives on that mission, and only made it out alive because of each other and the fact that their team showed up at just the right moment. If it weren't for him, Ward would have been shot before even getting to the border; if it weren't for Ward, he would have been caught by dogs because of a sandwich. They'd come away from that mission with mutual respect and a new understanding - and Fitz was well aware that he couldn't risk his list ever becoming between him and a new friendship that he wanted to hold onto.

          So, he made a decision, and all the names in his head for all those years were scribbled down in a spare notebook. Each person that was either in a committed relationship, wouldn't have any interest in him, entirely fictional, or famous was crossed off immediately, and purging it, basing the urges he still struggled to ignore in reality, it felt _good._ The latent hope for possibilities that would never come to pass left him feeling lighter, happier, like he could actually handle the raging thoughts in his head and the feelings that barely made any sense without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

* * *

 

          The first time he'd ever spoken about his list with anyone at all was all those years ago, on Jemma's bed, with _NCIS_ playing in the background, and it seemed that's where he'd end up having the next conversation about it, only without the crime drama to fill the quiet air. He cared about her, probably in the same way he'd started to care about Matthew before life got in the way, but she was also his best friend, and the only person he trusted to know about his list at all. That fact left him awkwardly standing outside the door to her bunk, clutching the notebook tightly in both hands while waiting for her to open the door for him after he'd knocked.

          And the second real conversation he had about his list ended far differently than the first. Instead of shutting down the way he had when she'd tried to understand, he simply handed over the notebook and let her read the pages and pages of crossed out names written in pencil. When she reached the end, neither of them said anything for a long moment while they processed what exactly the short little sharing session meant. To him, it meant accepting it, acknowledging it as a list that consisted of something he might actually want instead of something he could want. It meant facing the fact that he felt attraction to an entire group of people he'd never considered available to him while he was growing up. It meant opening enough to show her the two most recent names he'd added after making the realization himself in a drainage pipe in the freezing cold.

          At the very bottom of the list, written and then carefully crossed out in pencil, _Michael Weatherly_ , just below where _Grant Ward_ had been written down and crossed out so many times with pencil and eraser that the paper was worn thin and he'd eventually made the mark in pen _._ He was far too well known to _keep_  on the list, but Fitz could at least add him as a symbolic gesture, and it certainly wasn't missed.

          "I thought you said he would never make your list?"

          The Scotsman felt a smile pulling at his lips while he looked down at the notebook she'd set between them, shaking his head when he chose his words carefully. "What? With that square jaw, perfect hair, broad shoulders, symmetrical eyes, and crooked smile? No one in their right mind can really resist that, can they? He's _everybody's_ type."

          ( _and maybe, just maybe, there was a part of him that didn't quite know who he was talking about - the actor, or the man whose name was written one line above it with his name crossed out in blue ink so that he wasn't tempted to keep him there on the list_ )


End file.
